


A Shot in the Dark

by 8ethespider8itch



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: No Lesbians Die, No Storm in Arcadia Bay, Slow Burn, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:38:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ethespider8itch/pseuds/8ethespider8itch
Summary: Max tries her hardest to sacrifice Chloe. But love is a force to be reckoned with. Follow Chloe and Max down a road where there is no tornado, and the only upheaval is the aftermath.This little one-shot writing exercise I didn't even plan on posting has taken on a life of its own!





	1. Chapter 1

Max knelt on the floor behind the stalls, eyes already flooding with tears. Time had melted before her eyes, fading from a photo in her hand to a moment surrounding her. Camera in hand, she had just snapped a photo of the glimmering blue butterfly perched on the bucket in the back corner of the ladies' room. She blinked, trying to clear her sight. Right on time, Nathan busted through the bathroom door.

“It's cool, Nathan…” he grumbled. “Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three.” He trailed off, sounding exhausted. Max covered her ears and tried not to hear, but there was no tuning this moment out. She knew every word by heart, anyway. “Don't be scared, you own this school. If I wanted, I could blow it up. You're the boss!”

The door opened again, and Max whimpered softly when she heard her voice. “ I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say. Now, let's talk bidness.”

“I got nothing for you,” Nathan snarled.

 **“** Wrong. You got hella cash," Chloe growled. 

 **“** That's my family, not me.”

 **“** Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you been pumping drugs an' shit to kids around here... I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now-”

 **“** Leave them out of this, bitch.”

 **"** I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!" Chloe was gloating, and in any other situation Max would have loved to hear that cocky, confident voice just one more time. Now, it was like a hot knife turning in her gut.

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!” 

 _"No, Chloe, he's right. You really don't."_ Max thought.

“Where'd you get that?" Chloe's voice changed entirely, trembling with fear. "What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down," she reasoned.

 **“** Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!”

 **“** You are going to get in hella more problems for this than drugs-"

Nathan cut her off. “Nobody would ever miss your punk ass, would they?” He shoved her against the wall, and she gasped. 

Max screamed. She couldn’t help herself. She didn’t even realize it happened until it was too late, her voice echoing shrilly through the room. Nathan rounded the corner of the stalls.

“What the fuck are you doing back here, you little bitch?” he demanded, brandishing the gun at her.

“Nathan, please!” she begged, hands up in a defensive position. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her!”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean Caulfield?” He came closer, and behind him Chloe gasped.

“Max?” Fear and recognition mingled on her face.

“Run!” Max shouted. Chloe stared at her for a moment, looking unsure, before turning and running from the bathroom.

“You’re gonna regret that, you hipster shit!” Nathan said, pushing her against the wall.

“Nathan, I know you never meant to hurt Rachel,” she whispered. “She meant a lot to you, didn’t she?”

“Fuck you,” he said, hands trembling.

“You’re not a bad person, Nathan,” Max said desperately. “I know it!”

“You don’t know what I’ve done”! He shouted. “Just shut up!”

“I know you killed her, Nathan. I know exactly what you did. But you didn’t try to, did you?”

“Shut UP!” There was a sharp, high-pitched crack and the whole world shook. Max wasn’t sure what happened, but she couldn’t quite hear right anymore.

“Nathan?” she asked uncertainly, and her knees gave out. There was a warm, wet spot spreading across the side of her shirt. It stung. Somewhere, far away, she thought she heard Chloe’s voice, calling her name.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Beep. Beep! Beep. Beep! _

Max Caulfield’s eyes opened slowly. She was in a white room, surrounded by shiny metal machinery. The curtains were open so she could see afternoon sunlight pouring in through the blinds. 

_ Beep. Beep! Beep. Beep! _

The machine next to her blipped in time with her heartbeat. “What fucking day is it?” she asked herself aloud. 

“Thursday, dude. Holy shit!” Chloe stood up from her seat near the foot of the bed and rushed to her side.

“Thursday?” Max asked groggily, struggling to connect the timelines in her head. “Shit! How’s the weather been?”

“Seriously Max? Five years, not a single word, and the first thing you ask me is about the damn weather?” She laughed aloud. “You really haven’t changed at all, you fucking flake.”

Max’s eyes went wide. “No, seriously Chloe. Has it snowed?”

Chloe looked worried. “Max, did you hit your head on the way down? What’s your full name? How old are you?”

“I didn’t hit my head! Well, I might have hit my head, but that’s not why I’m asking. Whatever, I don’t even care, it’s so good to see you!”

“It really is,” Chloe replied softly. “I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea.”

“I might have some idea. I put you through a lot, didn’t I?” Max sighed and leaned back against the pillows, wincing at the pain in her abdomen. 

“Well, yeah. Getting shot will do that to a person, you know?” Chloe sat down on the bed gingerly.

“Not that, you’re welcome for that. I didn’t call.”

Chloe’s face hardened moderately. “You didn’t.”

“I don’t have a good excuse, honestly.”

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. You saved my life. You got shot!”

“And in another reality, you did!” Chloe blinked at her. “Multiverse theory.”

“Yeah, I know, you saved me, like I said.”

A nurse bustled in. “Miss Caulfield, you’re awake!” she nudged Chloe aside gently to take Max’s vitals. 

“That’s not what I meant…” The nurse turned Max’s chin to check the dilation of her eyes. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve been shot. That doesn’t excuse me ignoring you. Look…” she sighed deeply. “Leaving stirred up a lot of feelings, ok? I thought that if I left you alone you’d be better off.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I thought… I relied on you too much. I thought we were too codependent, that if I kept talking to you I’d drag you down with me. I was a mess without you. I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating. My parents took me to a therapist.”

“And your fuckin’ headshrinker told you to stay away from me? You gotta be kidding.”

“Actually, she told me I had to face my fears, and that if I didn’t talk to you we’d both be in worse shape than before. But you know how I am.”

“Stubborn, yeah, I know.” 

The nurse shifted her blankets. “Miss Caulfield, you were shot. I think you need to pay better attention to me. Have your emotional reunion in a few minutes, ok?”

Max finally looked at her. “What’s the prognosis then?”

“You’re right where we expected you to be in your recovery. Your heart rate is steady, your systems are functioning well. No major damage to the internal organs. The bullet was embedded in your left hip, and had to be removed. You’ll need some physical therapy. I’ll be calling your parents to let them know you’re awake. They were listed as next of kin, correct?” Max nodded. “Good, good. The police will want to speak with you sometime this afternoon, now that you’re awake.”

“She just woke up!” Chloe complained.

“It’s ok Chloe. They need to check your story against mine. And I heard some things - important things - before you came into the bathroom. They need to know what Nathan said. Shit!” she swore, patting down her hospital gown in a vain search for her cell phone. “I need to talk to Kate!”

Chloe grabbed her phone from the bedside table and passed it over. “What’s up?”

Max typed furiously, not answering. “Have you heard anything about Kate Marsh?”

“What, besides that video of her that’s been circulating? Nothing.”

“Thank God.” she winced, then turned to the nurse. “Is there any way I can talk to the police now?” she asked.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Jennings and see if that can be arranged. In the meantime, please rest. Getting overexcited isn’t going to help with your recovery.” She tucked the blankets back up around Max and turned to walk away. “Miss Price?” she added, as she was nearly out the door.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t over-excite her.”

Chloe waggled her eyebrows. “A girl can dream.”

Max rolled her eyes. “You’re the worst.” A yawn took her by surprise, cutting off the end of the word. “I’ve been out for days, how am I so tired?”

Chloe nodded sympathetically. “They told us that might happen. I’m surprised you lasted this long. The docs said you’d probably go back under as soon as you woke up. Take a nap, we can talk later.”

“Only if you come sit with me.” She patted the bed beside her. “On my right, away from the gaping wound.”

“It’s not a gaping wound, shut up.” Chloe sat down on Max’s good side, and put a protective arm around her shoulder. “Now get some rest, Maxaroni.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you're enjoying where this is going so far. I know this feels like a twice-told tale as far as going back and saving Chloe goes, but I'm hoping to touch on some things I haven't seen covered in other stories. 
> 
> In the comments, let me know what you think Chloe's favorite song is. I'd love some input, and it'll be relevant later!


	3. Chapter 3

Max woke up to a grey lit morning, feeling cold. The bed was empty beside her, covers rumpled as if someone had tried to tuck her in without waking her. At the door of the room, a slim figure in a black hoodie was walking away, shoulders hunched. 

“Chloe?” Max asked. She heard her voice and almost laughed. She sounded a million years old.

“Mmm?” the figure at the door asked, and turned toward her. “Oh! You’re awake this time!” Chloe hustled back to the bed. 

“This time?” Max asked, fighting off a yawn.

“You’ve been muttering to yourself for hours.” She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “I was kinda afraid to leave, honestly. I feel better now that you’re awake.”

“Wowsers, how long have you been here?”

“You slept for a good 16 hours, Maximillion. Guess you needed your beauty sleep.”

“Sure,” Max scoffed, checking her reflection in the window on her left. “That’s why I look like death right now.”

Chloe shrugged. “Some people are into that.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Go home Chloe. Get some sleep.”

“You kidding Max? What do you think I’ve been doing the past 16 fucking hours? Admiring your sleeping face?”

“Absolutely,” Max deadpanned. 

“You got me, Max. I’m Edward fuckin’ Cullen, and you’re my boring, underage prey.”

“Oh gross! Dog, Chloe, that was uncalled for!” Max laughed, then winced. “Maybe laughing isn’t good. My guts sort of feel like there was a bullet in them, followed by some surgical implements.”

“Boy, do I have news for you!” Chloe joked. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Seriously Max, I’m not going anywhere now that you’re up. The cops have come in to see you twice, but no one wants to wake up the exhausted hero who saved the town loser.”

“You’re not the town loser! I think that’s Frank, actually.” 

“And just what do you know about Frank?” Chloe asked skeptically.

Max sighed.  _ “More than you, for now…”  _ She thought. Aloud though, she just said, “I’ve heard enough, I think.”

“Probably,” Chloe said absently, brow furrowed. “I still need to figure that shit out.”

“What shit?” Max asked, feigning ignorance.

“Nothin’ really, I just owe Frank more dough than I can get my hands on right now. He said he’d give me an extension when he heard you got shot though. More decent than I expected of him.”

“Did you tell the cops that?” Max asked cautiously.

“Oh fuck no. I just told them...some other stuff. About why I was at the school, what my beef with Nathan was.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Max struggled to sit up, and pulled the lever on the side of her bed.

“Another time,” Chloe said. “For now, I have some questions for you. Interrogation pregaming or whatever.”

“Ugh, seriously? You don’t think they’re gonna ask me enough questions?”

“Oh, they totally are. But mine are more important.” She held up a finger. “First of all, what were you doing hiding in the back of that bathroom instead of using a stall like a normal person?”

“You know me, I shit in corners.”

“Fuck off, Caulfield.” Chloe swung her feet up onto the bed and sat in a lazy lotus pose. 

“I was taking a picture. There was this awesome blue butterfly that perched back there. When Nathan came in, I hella panicked.”

Chloe cocked an eyebrow. “Hella? Who are you and what have you done with Max Caulfield?”

Max’s cheeks flushed. “Hush. Anyway, he was mumbling all kinds of crazy shit and I wasn’t about to come out and tell him to get out of the girls’ bathroom. There’s an entire Harry Potter book about why that’s a bad idea.”

“Gender’s a bullshit social construct anyway,” Chloe said.

“Obviously. But Nate doesn’t think that, so unrelated. Anyway, when you came in I froze. I knew he had a gun, I’d peeked. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Did you know it was me?” Chloe asked softly.

Max thought about lying, but there were already too many secrets to keep. “Yeah, I knew. I couldn’t forget your voice if I tried, honestly.”

“Did you try, then?” Chloe was trying hard to sound nonchalant.

“Sure.” Max was too tired. No timeline had broached this topic yet. No Chloe knew about this. And this one only had a gunshot in Max’s gut as a reason to trust her. “I left this town with no one to rely on but you. It wasn’t healthy. I loved you more than anything or anyone. And every time I missed you, I’d type up a long, angsty text about how much I missed you and how nothing in Seattle felt like home. But then I thought about everything you’d been through. How you were missing your dad and I’d left and you were trapped in Arcadia Bay without access to McDonalds.” Chloe chuckled at that. “And I deleted the text. I kept saying, ‘I’ll text her when I have something good to say.’ But by the time I was feeling sane enough to tell you the good things about my new life, it had been too long. I felt shitty for losing touch and every day was one more day that I’d blown you off. Got to the point that it felt fucked up to try to talk to you. So I just...didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry for that. I thought I was doing you a favor, though, really. I thought you’d be better off without me.”

“Shit, Max.” Chloe didn’t say anything for a long time. She played with the frayed sleeve of her hoodie, and didn’t look up. Finally, she spoke. “I get that.” Nothing else. Her voice was shaking, just a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too. We’re a real mess, you know that?” Chloe looked up, and there were tears in her eyes. “I thought the same shit, you know? I thought you weren’t answering because you were having such a good life now that you didn’t want me around.” 

Before Max could say anything about that, there was a knock at the open door. “Miss Caulfield?” a gravelly man’s voice asked. At the door, there were men in surprisingly academic looking suits, probably officers of some kind waiting to be invited in like the most oddly-dressed vampires she’d ever seen.

“Yes?” she asked, voice quivering suddenly.

The taller one, who had an impressive toothbrush mustache and messy grey hair, spoke up. “I’m detective Brandt. This is my partner detective Scout. We’re here to ask you some questions about the events that occurred in the ladies’ room at Blackwell Academy this past week.”

Chloe snorted. “That sounds fucking awful, dude. Real creepy.”

Scout, who was a skinny ginger man with elbow patches on his tweed jacket, snorted. “She isn’t wrong, Brandt. But Chloe, we’re going to have to ask you to wait outside for this.”

Chloe frowned. “You can’t question her alone! She’s traumatized.”

“I’m fine,” Max told her, giving her a little push. “Shoo. You can come back in when we’re done.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Brandt added, “visiting hours are long over anyway. Wait in the hall for a few minutes and we’ll make sure you get some time with your friend when we’re done.”

“Oooh, police bribery! I should be filming.” Chloe hopped up from the bed and blew Max a grandiose kiss. “Til we meet again, Mad Max!” 

“Oh, get out,” Max laughed, and Chloe was gone. “So what do you need to know?”

The strange detectives sat in the hard plastic chairs beside the window of the room. “To be honest, I don’t want to know anything until someone else is in the room,” Scout told her. “You’re a bit too trusting Max. This is a Prescott case. We could be anyone on Sean Prescott’s payroll. You haven’t even asked to see our badges.”

“I doubt I’d be able to tell if your badges are real anyway,” Max said honestly.

“Probably not,” Brandt agreed, then pressed the button at Max’s bedside that was meant to call a nurse. “But the fact remains that we cannot be too cautious, Miss Caulfield.” 

_ “You have nooooo idea,” _ Max thought. The nurse from the previous day came into the room before she could voice that sentiment, which was probably for the best.

“Clare, would you mind sitting in on this interview?” Scout asked. “We were unable to reach Max’s parents, I’m sure they’re asleep.” His eyes darted to the clock on the wall that reads 6 am.

“Not at all!” She busied herself checking Max’s vitals and fussing with some machines, but it was clear that she wasn’t planning on leaving. This was reassuring. These men had been friendly and professional so far, but for some reason her heart was racing. Maybe because Max knew she’s have to bend the truth to make sure no one else got hurt. 

“So, you said you had questions? Shoot,” she said, then flushed. “Pun not intended,” she added hurriedly. Scout laughed, and there was a glint in Brandt’s eye.

“Keeping your sense of humor about you? Good, good. The best thing you can do right now. The main thing we need for you to do is give us a summary, a basic recount of the scene. Tell us everything you saw and heard in that bathroom, and how you responded. We need to know if your story lines up with Miss Price’s. And Mr. Prescott’s, of course.”

Max wrinkled her nose. It was so strange to think that Nathan Prescott had been questioned by the police about shooting her, considering all the awful things he’d done. This seemed so minimal. “Well,” she began, “I was in the bathroom splashing some cold water on my face. I was feeling a bit dizzy in my photography class. Mr. Jefferson,” she narrowly avoided flinching as she said his name, “reminded me of a photography contest we have coming up, and I think I got a bit too anxious thinking about what picture I wanted to enter. I was about to leave and go grab lunch, but a butterfly flew behind me and landed on the bucket in the back corner of the bathroom.” She looked sheepish. “Butterflies are out of season, and I thought it would be a good picture. So I pulled out my camera and took the shot.” That phrase sent a chill up her spine, but she continued. “The door opened, and I heard Nathan mumbling to himself.”

“Could you hear what he was saying?” Scout asked her, leaning foreward,

“Um, kind of.” Max gritted her teeth and thought,  _ “Please forgive me” _ before continuing. “He was just sort of raving, it didn’t really make sense. ‘It’s not my fault she’s dead! Jefferson never told me how he measured the injections when he drugged them.”

“Jefferson?” Brandt asked.

“That’s what he said,” Max shrugged, struggling to keep her face from looking guilty. “And I peeked around the stalls and saw that he was talking to himself in the mirror. ‘You’re the boss, Nathan. You own this school. You could blow it up if you want. No one but Mark knows where Rachel is buried, and he’ll never tell. Not if he wants to keep what he did to Kate a secret.’ I’m not sure what he said after that, it sounded like ‘bodies in the junkyard, Rachel in the dark room,’ but I’m not sure what that means.” Max shivered. There was truth here, just out of context. If they didn’t get Jefferson soon, Victoria would be in danger. Max knew this was the only way to fix things. She couldn’t rewind again.

“Would you testify this statement in a court of law?” Brandt asked her, seriously.

“Absolutely.” Max was definite. 

“What happened next?” Brandt asked her.

“I didn’t know what to do. My phone was dead, so I couldn’t call anyone for help, so I was just going to wait him out, but someone else came in. I recognized her voice.” Max’s tone softened. “Chloe. She was really angry with him for something, but I don’t know what. I heard him threaten her, and she sounded terrified, so I peeked again.” Max buried her face in her hands. This part was harder to relive than she thought.

“Go on whenever you’re ready, Max,” Scout told her softly.

“I’m fine. I need to get this over with. He had a gun. He had Chloe pinned to the wall, by the door. The gun was aimed at her stomach. I screamed, and he came at me. He said...he said…” Max’s vision blurred. It was like she was in the bathroom all over again.

_ “What the fuck are you doing back here, you little bitch?” _

_ “Nathan, please! I know you didn’t mean to hurt her!” _

“Miss Caulfield?” the nurse asked softly, speaking up for the first time. “If you’re not ready, these men can come back another time. She put a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder.

“No, I want to finish. Nathan yelled in my face, asked me what I was doing back there. I told him I knew he didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Hurt who?” Scout asked.

“Huh? Oh...Chloe I guess. I think I was just saying anything that I thought would make him back down. I told him he was a good person or something.” She thought about Rachel, buried and forgotten under American Rust, and her stomach heaved. “I told Chloe to run.” She gagged. “And then he… he... “ Max was surprised to feel tears pouring down her cheeks. She hadn’t expected to cry about this. She didn’t even feel like crying, really. “He shot me.”

Scout nodded sympathetically. “Is there anything else you remember?”

Max shook her head. “No, just that he said all that weird stuff. I think when he had the gun on me, I might have tried to make sense of that stuff, you know? To talk him down?” She grimaced. “That worked well for me, huh?”

“Better than you might think, Miss Caulfield,” Brandt said, standing up and straightening his jacket. “You’re alive, and you can testify against Mr. Prescott. That’s better than many shooting victims.” He offered her his hand, and she shook it. Scout did the same. “We’ll be seeing you, Miss Caulfield.” He set a business card on her bedside table. “Call us if you remember anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who do you guys like better, Brandt or Scout? Do you trust them? Let me know in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe came back into the room and challenged Max to a game of War, pulling some bent and soft-edged cards from the pocket of her jacket. They played for about an hour, until Ryan and Vanessa Caulfield arrived. That was an expressive whirlwind, with Vanessa aggressively hugging her daughter and crying. Max cried a little as well. She couldn’t help it. It was incredible how long she’d gone without seeing her mother. Ryan, for his part, clapped Max on the shoulder and called her, “his fierce little hero,” then kissed her on the forehead. “Vanessa,” he added, “You might not want to hug her so hard. She’s probably still tender.”

Max laughed. “Don’t worry mom! They keep me pretty doped up in here. I don’t think I’d really notice unless you stuck your finger in my stitches.”

“Maxine, that’s disgusting,” her mother said fondly, then turned to Chloe. “How are you sweetheart?” she asked, hugging her almost as tightly as she’d hugged her own daughter. “The doctors told us you’d been coming to see Max, but we kept missing you!”

“I’m ok,” Chloe said sheepishly, hugging her back. “Much better than I’d be if your kid wasn’t an honest-to-God hero.” Vanessa let go, and Ryan reached out a hand to shake hers. “It’s great to see you guys.”

“It’s wonderful to see you too, Chloe. I wish we’d come sooner, I know Max has been wanting to for years.” She didn’t miss the grimace on Chloe’s face. “I’m sure she could have expressed that better at the time. But girls...what happened in that bathroom? The police aren’t telling us anything…”

For the second time that day, Max recounted the events in the bathroom. Her parents were a rapt audience, gasping at just the right moments and making Max feel a bit less like screaming every time she thought about what happened. It felt like a fairytale, not like a traumatic event she’d been through a few days prior. Chloe lounged in a chair in the corner of the room, watching them with a sad smile. There was no doubt in Max’s mind, Chloe was missing William fiercely right now. She’d tried to leave, insisting that Max’s parents should get some time alone with her, but Ryan put an arm around her and asked her to stay. 

“We’ve had her to ourselves for five years. I think we can share the room,” he said, surprisingly softly for his burly frame.

“Maxine…” Vanessa started, in a tone that made Max incredibly nervous, “how are you planning on finishing out your senior year?”

“I’m in a hospital. Can’t school wait?” Max asked, annoyed.

“Oh, honey, that’s not what I mean. Your recovery will take as long as it has to, your father and I would never rush that. I’m asking where you want to finish classes. Do you want to stay at Blackwell, or would you rather come home?” Vanessa leaned in earnestly. Max knew what answer she was hoping for. After what just happened, any parent would want their child as close to them as possible. But there was no way, after everything she’d just gone through, that Max was going to walk away from Chloe.

“Mom, I know you’re not going to like this, but I’ve worked too hard to give up on my Blackwell dreams just yet. I’ve just started making friends and getting comfortable here. I can’t let people like Nathan Prescott take that from me.” 

Vanessa and Ryan exchanged looks. “We had a feeling you’d say that,” Ryan said. “You’re my stubborn girl. We’ll support you however you need.” Vanessa nodded. There were tears in her eyes again. 

“What about what I’m missing right now?” Max asked, worrying about school for the first time since she’d woken up.

“They’ll send tutors along to work with you so you can keep up. If you fall behind, they’re willing to extend your scholarship into next year so you can graduate through the program. The doctors say that’s pretty likely. They’re recommending that you take on half of your course load this year, and the other half next year. That way you can take the time you need to recover and not have a heavy workload when you’re back in school. The doctors have told us that you were incredibly lucky. The bullet could have shattered your hip bone, and your organs are all intact. It's mostly flesh and muscle that are damaged, with some potential nerve issues."

Max nodded. That made a lot of sense. “Any word on who my tutors will be?” she asked.

“A young woman named Kate who volunteers here mentioned that she could probably help you with World History and anthropology. She seemed lovely.”

“Oh, that’s perfect! I’ve been meaning to meet up with Kate anyway.” She gave Chloe a meaningful look, a sort of “I’ll explain later, but this is important” face. 

“I’ll be able to help, too,” Chloe chimed in. “I didn’t get to tell you this Max, but get this: Wells reinstated my scholarship! Pretty sure he was afraid my mom was going to sue the school for all this shit, so he’s basically bribing me with a high-quality education. I was gonna tell them to shove it, but I’m kind of bored with juvenile delinquency. Only so much mileage you can get out of that before you’re just a criminal. I’m interested to see what being a respectable citizen feels like.”

“Wowzers, Chloe, that’s awesome!”

“I know, right? I was taking some GED classes before you came around, so if you work your ass off, we’ll be able to graduate together.”

“If I work my ass off?” Max snorted. “Good luck keeping up with the master nerd, Price. I eat punks like you for breakfast.”

“A scrawny little hippy like you? Doubt it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a vegan.” Chloe wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Hey! Now that’s just offensive.”

“Maxine,” Vanessa said scoldingly, “you were vegan for two years.” She turned to her husband. “I still think that stunted her growth.” Chloe cackled, eyes watering with tears of laughter.

“Shut up Chloe. Mom, it was a phase, ok?” Max was annoyed, but there was still something so nice about the atmosphere in this room. Chloe’s laughter, her mother’s teasing smile, her father worrying aloud with as much sarcasm that he could muster that allowing her to stay at Blackwell would feed into her countercultural ways.

“I’m never, for the rest of our lives, letting you live that down.”

The rest of our lives… Max liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pretty short, I just wanted to make sure I worked Max's parents in here! They're not going to be central to the plot, as Max is staying on campus after she gets out of the hospital. Anyone have any ideas on who else may be tutoring Max? Make a guess in the comments or stay tuned to find out in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to let you guys know, I'm really insecure about writing this story. I'm going to push through and write it anyway, but this fandom is just so amazing and in depth, I definitely feel like I'm out of my league trying to write among all these amazing, talented people! That being said, thanks for all your support and for reading my little tribute to a big fandom!

In the following days, Chloe came and went like a ghost, ignoring the hospital rules in a way only she could. Other people dropped in as well, punctuating the long, white-walled days. Alyssa brought her a book to read, which Max was eternally grateful for. Dana came by with her laptop and Warren’s flash drive, citing it as “weird but worthwhile entertainment.” Victoria even stopped in, eyes red and puffy, to tell Max that if she’d known how Nathan was going to completely flip out, she would never have let the Vortex club get this far. Max had the good grace not to tell her that she didn’t know the half of it. Many faces came and went like a blur.Max couldn’t have predicted how many people would sit in those stupid, plastic chairs and try to make conversation. Still, the only true constant was Chloe. She came daily, monopolizing visiting hours and bullying Warren into bringing them both Taco Bell when he came to work with her on science and math. Her new classes would start the following week, and she swore up and down that listening to these tutoring sessions would help. Kate graciously taught for two. Warren eyed her warily at first, but warmed to her the first time she brought up Blade Runner.  Kate's third session was Tuesday, a week and a day after "The Bathroom Incident," as Chloe liked to call it, snickering at the implications. Chloe was off doing lord knew what this afternoon, and Max and Kate had a rare moment alone.

“The police called me in,” Kate said softly, watching Max finish up the last few questions of their pop quiz. “They wanted to know about the video. They think that was Nathan too.”

“What did you tell them?” Max asked, worry leaching into her tone.

“The truth,” Kate said simply. "That I remember Nathan offering to take me to the hospital. And I remember a room… I thought it was a hospital. But it can’t have been, because I wasn’t on any hospital registers. And then the police showed me...some photos.”

Max’s heart raced. “What kind of photos?” she asked, knowing the answer but completely unprepared to hear it.

“Photos of me. In a room like a hospital, all white and bright. They said according to the dilation of my eyes, I’d been heavily drugged. And-” her eyes filled with tears. “And they said it was Nathan and Mr. Jefferson!”

Max covered her mouth with her hand. Already? How could they have already found the Dark Room? This was happening so much faster than she’d expected. On one hand, it was reassuring to know that Jefferson was off the streets. But on the other, it was unnerving to not know every event precisely. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”

“Why would you be sorry? Nathan shot you! You’re the reason he was caught, without what you heard they would never have found out Jefferson was involved.” Kate wrung her hands, something Max did not think real people did outside of historical novels.

“Of course they would have. I’m sure there’s plenty of evidence outside of my statement, you know?” She sure hoped so. This whole case could not just lean on her testimony, it would collapse in on itself.

“It sounds like it. But I don’t know much, I told them I didn’t want to hear it. My psychologist said I should take it in small bits and process it as it comes.” She sniffled, and Max silently offered her a tissue. “Did you hear about Rachel Amber?”

For a moment, Max was sure her heart stopped. “What about her?”

“She wasn’t as lucky as me,” Kate said, staring down at her lap. “They killed her and buried her in a junkyard by the train tracks.”

Max would look back on this moment and feel incredibly lucky that Warren chose that moment to dash into the room. She had no idea what to say to Kate, how to respond what she’d just been told.

“God, I’m so sorry I’m late!” Warren had clearly just run from a distance. His cheeks were red, and he leaned on the door frame, wheezing. He had a stack of books under his arm, covers rumpled and worse for wear.

Max smiled. “All good, Warren. Kate,” her eyes crinkled with worry and she reached out to take Kate’s hand, “we’ll talk later, ok? Go back to the dorm, have a cup of tea, and relax. And if anyone tries to hassle you, let them know that I got shot once this week and I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Oh, Max, that’s not funny at all! But I’ll be back in a few days to do the next lesson, ok? Don’t forget your homework!” She gave Max a gentle half-hug and left.

Warren was still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “Dude, come in and sit down,” Max said, pointing to the seat Kate had just vacated. It was pulled up to the edge of the bed so they could share textbooks.

“What?” Warren looked a little dazed. “Oh, sorry, yeah.” He sat in the chair a bit stiffly. “So what do we start with: Algebra or Chem?”

Max wrinkled her nose. “Wow, what an appealing choice. I guess algebra comes first, that’s the one I actually hate. Let’s get it over with.”

“Sounds good to me. Who’s tutoring you in the rest of your classes?”

“Kate is reviewing world history and cultural anthro with me. I’m taking the rest of my senior classes next year and graduating late. AP English, photography, media literacy, and life drawing are all I’ll need to graduate, so with the lightened class load I should be able to keep up even with all the court business.”

“What about gym?” Warren smirked at her.

“I’d better be exempt.” Max pointed to her hip. “They can count my PT as a gym credit.”

“At this point, Blackwell would probably bend over backward to avoid a lawsuit from their degenerate-saving hero.”

“I’m sure they would,” Max agreed. “I’m getting pretty tired of this Chloe-is-a-heathen vibe they’re throwing though. The girl went through hell, I think people could stand to be a little less judgey.”

“You're probably right, but I’m not scared to admit that I'm scared shitless of Chloe Price.”

Chloe of course, with her impeccable timing, chose that moment to enter the room. “Sup Graham?” She nodded to him and sat down on the second chair. “Don't mind me, I'll just catch some z’s while you catch Maxwell over here up on whatever academic bullshit she’s missed. Since you clearly didn't bring me a Cheesy Gordita Crunch."

“Maybe if you started ponying up some cash, I'd think about it.  Max, let’s start with the algebra homework. You do what you can, and I'll stop you if you get off track.” Warren pulled a worksheet out and pinned it to a clipboard, handing it to Max so she could get started, Warren’s gentle voice explaining a lesson she missed while Chloe snored softly by the window. It might have been the first time Max got through a math lesson without grinding her teeth. By the time Warren walked out the door, she was caught up in math and a tiny bit ahead of their science class. “To keep you on your toes,” he told her.

She motioned downward. “You're the only one helping me out so far.”

He frowned. “You’re not up and around yet at all?”

“Not without an escort and a grandma walker, and even that’s pushing it. Don’t worry about it dude, it’s gonna take some PT, but Nathan Prescott doesn’t get to keep me off my feet for long.”

“Ballsy,” Warren said nervously. “That asswipe and his family have bought out half this town. There’s still time.”

“Between you and me, this case is bigger than just the school shooting, and that alone was enough to bring in the feds. No buying off the federal government, you know? Sean Prescott is evil, but he’s not a cartoon character. I know we’re not home free yet, but we’re definitely on our way.”

“I heard some things...about Rachel Amber.” Beside them, Chloe sat up.

“What have you heard about Rachel?” she asked with barely concealed panic.

Warren’s face drained of color. He didn’t say anything, just stared at her with panic in his eyes and shook his head.

“Warren, how about you head home? I’ll text you about the next lesson.” Max kept her voice calm, but inside she was all jello, shaking and soft.

“No, you need to tell me!” Chloe sounded desperate, angry.

“I know as much as Warren, if not more. Let me know when you get back to the dorms safe, Warren.” Max could feel her lip trembling now. How could it be that she’d fixed nearly everything and Chloe still has to go through this all over again?

Warren collected his things into a messy stack and hurried for the door, looking back only to say, more to Chloe than to Max, “Fuck, I’m sorry,” before leaving in a flurry of dropped scrap paper.

“Max.” Chloe’s voice sounded strange, like she was already underwater when she wasn’t even crying yet.

“Come sit with me,” Max said softly, patting the bed beside her.

“You’re fucking scaring me,” Chloe told her, but she sat down on the bed.

Max took her hand. “I didn’t want to be the one to tell you about this. I don’t know how. But apparently people know now.” She took a deep breath. “They found Rachel’s body, Chlo. Nathan and...and Mr. Jefferson. They. She’s gone.”

“No. No way!” She gripped Max’s hand hard. “She’s not...she can’t be! Please, no...”

“I’m so sorry.” Max blinked back tears. She couldn’t cry now, this wasn’t her grief to shoulder. She had no right to hurt like this over a girl she’d never met, a girl in a photograph and a shallow grave in the junkyard.

“Where?” Chloe asked, tears threatening to overflow.

“American Rust,” Max whispered.

“Seriously? FUCK!” She tried to stand up, but Max wouldn’t let go of her hand.

“Please, Chloe, don’t go anywhere.”

“I need a cigarette, I need to go-” Chloe pulled her hand, but Max knew better than to let go. She’d seen the self-destructive bender Chloe had gone on last time. She couldn’t rewind again.

“Chloe, stop!” Max grabbed her cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. "Please stop..." Chloe was crying for real now, tears tracking days-old eyeliner down her cheeks.

“Please no, not her!” Chloe fell into a slump on the bed, head in hands. Max didn’t answer. She pulled Chloe close, keeping an arm around her and rubbing circles on her back, her forehead resting on Chloe’s shoulder blade until the shaking stopped. "I knew, you know."

"What did you know?" Max asked, still holding on tight, afraid that if she let go Chloe would bolt like a spooked doe.

"That she was - gone." She sniffled, wiping her nose carelessly on the sleeve of her hoodie. "She would have called me. Left me a letter. Something! I knew something bad had happened. I just hoped I was wrong, you know? I lost everything. I couldn't lose her too."

Max knew there was nothing she could say. She was part of the lost, the everything, and it was her own fault too. Chloe leaned into her, sighing an entire lifetime's worth of sadness through her nose.

"I really need a fucking cigarette, Max."

"Then you can smoke in here. Open a window. Please -" her voice broke. "Please don't go anywhere now."

"That sounds like a bad idea. Doctors aren't too big on coffin nails, you know. You'd think they'd be more appreciative, people like me keep them in business."

"No worse than letting you run off by yourself when I can't keep up." Max let go of Chloe's shoulders, easing back to lay on her pillows. "I could use an open window anyway. It's stuffy in here."

Chloe stood, opening the window and lighting up a smoke. "You mind the smell?" she asked, sounding like she had a head cold.

"No. It...it reminds me of home." 

Chloe blew a smoke ring at her. "Yeah, well, welcome home Max. You got shot, my best friend is dead, and this town is a shithole." She took another drag. In the cold evening light, Chloe looked just like one of those crying fairies Hot Topic sold on binders and posters when they were fourteen, all blue rain and mascara tracks and smoke-trail halos. It was a lot more tragic in real life than on a spiral bound diary. She snubbed out her cigarette on the window sill and flicked it out the window before returning to the bed, laying down and pulling her feet up so her back was to Max, who held her, a fragile big spoon trying to keep the shards of her best friend together, until they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Chloe's grief feels so out of character, she's such a personal person that I feel like I'm intruding on something private. I did borrow dialogue directly from the scene where they find Rachel's body to lend some authenticity to the grief. Don't worry folks, I promise she won't stay down for long. I know she didn't have an appropriate amount of time to grieve in the game, things were too fast-paced. But here we are! Two sad, living babies. Congrats to all of you who guessed that Warren would be tutoring Max, you nailed it! 
> 
> Next chapter, Max will get out of the hospital. Any guesses on where she'll spend her first day out?


	6. Chapter 6

In the background of Max’s recovery, Chloe grieved like a burnt-out house fire. Hot coals of rage hiding in a cage of cold, wet bones. She was prone to lashing out, though Max never saw it in person. She answered three am texts that were barely coherent, doing her best to soothe rage that had been building since William passed and had only mounted with each loss. She fielded calls from Joyce when Chloe didn’t come home, and could only be accounted for because unlike Max, she wouldn’t just abandon a friend in need. Max couldn't blame Chloe for wanting to burn Acadia Bay to the ground when she couldn't remember a time when it was all falling to ashes. Every time Max fell asleep, she was afraid she’d wake up and Chloe would have well and truly bolted, never to be seen again.

  
But the day Max was released from the hospital with a cane and strict instructions not to be on her feet more than necessary, Chloe was outside leaning on the side of her truck with a bouquet of yellow daisies in hand. She thrust them into Max’s hand and Max glowed.

  
“Wowsers, thanks!” Max fumbled awkwardly, keeping a solid grip on her cane.

“You look significantly less like a zombie than you did yesterday, Maxilla.” Chloe walked around the side of the truck, boosting Max so she could slip into the seat. “Should you even be walking?”

Max shrugged. “The doctors have had me walking a bit every day, I’m in a good place right now. Three to six months of physical therapy for a full recovery. The bullet basically went through the muscle and fat in my hip. It barely even grazed the bone.” She looked down at her lap. “I really don’t think Nathan meant to shoot me.”

“Honestly, I don’t actually care. He’s still human garbage. Fucker.” Chloe climbed up into the cab and started the truck. “Are you sure you want to come with me?” she asked, voice softening.

“Of course I do!” Max rolled down the window, letting the autumn breeze play through her hair. “I don’t want you going alone. And besides. I feel like I should be there. I owe her that, you know?”

Chloe cocked her head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“She took care of you when I didn’t.”

Chloe snorted. “She’d like that. She’d probably make some joke about joint custody.” Chloe lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. “I always told her she’d like you. You’re a lot alike. I’ve always run with art nerds, ya know? She said she thought she’d like you after she knocked some sense into you.”

“Sounds about right. She sounds great Chloe...I wish I’d gotten the chance to meet her.”

“Yeah.” The truck veered off to the right and bumped down a dirt trail that was definitely meant for smaller vehicles than this. “For reals, Max, last chance to bail.”

Max shook her head. “No chance. Come help me get out, ok?”

They walked together along the lush green rows of the cemetery, Chloe moving slow to keep Max’s pace. There was no church service for this funeral. Last night, on the lawn outside the Blackwell dorms, there’d been a candlelit memorial service. Max had seen a few pics on Instagram, and it looked lovely, but she knew most of the mourners were the same kinds of people who cried for Kate: liars and fakes who only cared when it was too late. Chloe didn’t attend.  
There was a small crowd clustered around the plot where Rachel was being laid to rest. A generic looking family stood near the preacher. That surprised Max. She expected less ordinary people to have created Rachel Amber, private school phenomenon and part-time angel. Some drama club kids Max recognized but didn’t know the names of, Dana among them, were standing together holding hands. Evan stood alone and to the side, tapping his fingers on his thigh and staring straight forward, a statue more than a boy. Even further away, Max spotted Frank Bowers, looking forlorn and impossibly fragile as he stared at the closed coffin. He was fiddling with the weaved blue bracelet on his wrist. Chloe noticed this as well, and to Max’s a horror she stormed over to him, dragging max in tow.

“That's Rachel’s bracelet,” she accused with venom. “Why do you have it?”

“Because she gave it to me,” he said.

“Bullshit! She never took it off, never. Why would she give something like that to you?”

“Fuck you,” Frank said, turning to walk away.

“What did you just say to me?” Chloe grabbed his shoulder. He shrugged her off.

“I said fuck you Chloe. You don't get to act like you're the only person who ever loved her. You don't fucking own grief.” He turned to Max. “I owe you a lot. They never…” he cleared his throat.

“They never would have found her.”

“You don't owe me anything.” Max said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. Chloe made an angry noise beside her. “Just take it easy on yourself. And on Chloe.”

The preacher stepped forward, clearing his throat. “The service will begin momentarily. Please silence your cell phones.”

Chloe stormed off to stand as far from Frank as possible. Max smiled at him apologetically and followed.

“What the fuck was that?” Chloe asked.

“Did you seem him Chloe? He looks awful.”

“He sold Nathan drugs! He fed into all of this!”

“And he has to live with that for the rest of his life. He loves her Chloe. Let it go.”

Max couldn’t quite hear what Chloe said next, but it sounded like “How would you know?” She didn’t push it.

Justin and Trevor were talking quietly to one another nearby, and as she and Chloe approached she was surprised to note that they didn’t smell like weed, though their eyes were even redder than usual. Chloe shoulder bumped Justin as she stood next to him, an arm still settled around Max’s waist.  
“This sucks,” Justin mumbled, and Chloe nodded in assent. Max did her best to stand tall, even though she felt tiny, unfathomably small. Chloe needed someone to lean on, not the other way around.

The preacher, an older local who ran the protestant church in town, asked that they all gather around for a prayer. He droned on about love and friendship and loss, describing his own account of a heaven Rachel was watching over them from. Across the open grave, Max saw thick trails of mascara begin flowing down Dana’s face. Chloe stiffened beside her. “Fuck this.” She wasn't crying, but she was making the same face she had when they found out about William, and the same face she’d made as she waved goodbye to Max on moving day. Eyes narrowed, jaw tight, lips parted, she stared unmoving at the closed casket. Her fists opened and closed a few times.

“Before we lower the casket into the ground, the Amber family asks that we take this time to say our final goodbyes to Rachel. If there is anything you would like to leave with her, there is a basket that will be interred today.” He motioned to the casket. “Please form an orderly line behind the family.” People shuffled into place. Chloe hesitated, unwilling to join the queue until Max took her hand and tugged her forward. When they reached the front of the line, Max dug in her pockets and pulled out a battered Polaroid, the butterfly photo from the bathroom. She looked at it for a moment, letting the colors swim, before dropping it in the basket.

“I'm sorry.” She stepped away, giving Chloe some privacy.

Chloe waited until Max was a few steps ahead before she stepped up to the coffin. She talked softly for a moment, eyes glazed. Then, she reached her hands behind her neck and unclasped her necklace. She slid a single bullet down the chain and squeezed it in her palm for a moment, eyes closed. Then she dropped it in the basket and walked away, eyes wild like she wanted to make a run for it and never look back. When her eyes met Max’s, she relaxed slightly, reaching out to take her arm and guide her back to the truck.  
“Fuck this man, let's get outta here.” Max nodded and followed Chloe back across the field. She took one last look at grave behind her, and saw a blue butterfly lazily flitting from flower to flower, settling on the coffin as it slowly lowered into the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated! I was having trouble finding a good place to wrap this chapter up, but here it is, all wrapped! Let me know what you think in the comments! I know it's a little rushed, especially in the Big Revelation part, but now we'll start getting to the fun stuff!

“Max Caulfield, you're a fuckin sap, you know that?” Chloe laid on her bed, picking at her flaking fingernails with the tip of a pocket knife.

“Sure, ok.” Max yawned and rolled over. “That's coming from the girl who bought me daisies, calling me a sap.” She slung a pillow across the bed, watching it bounce off Chloe’s shoulder.

She’d been staying at Chloe’s for almost a week now, which seemed to alleviate all pent-up awkwardness between them. This morning Max woke up at the crack of dawn and hobbled downstairs to make breakfast for everyone as a thank you. The only thing she could really make was French toast rollups, so she’d made a ton of them and brought about half of them up to Joyce and David’s room on a tray, setting them just outside and to her left so they wouldn't get stepped on. She'd even written up a little thank you note and tucked it under the corner of the tray. The other half of the batch came back to Chloe’s room with her. She set them down on the desk, then flopped back into bed to sleep until Chloe got up.

Now, Chloe refused to stop ribbing her about it. “Oh, I know  _ I’m  _ sappy. But I swiped your flowers from a neighbor’s garden. You made me breakfast, from scratch. That's kinda gay, Caulfield. I would know.”

“Is it gay that I made breakfast for your mom and David, too?” 

“Sure is. Stop flirting with my mom.” Chloe threw the pillow back. “And get up. You have PT at 11:30 and I don't want to get pulled over making sure your crippled ass isn't late.”

“My ass isn't crippled,” Max grumbled, standing up slowly and digging through the box of clothes her parents had brought over from the dorms. She found a pair of comfy sweats and an old beach tank top that said “Good Talk Brah” in faded white lettering. 

“No it's not. It's fiiiine,” Chloe teased, helping her ease her sweatpants over her hip without putting too much pressure on her bandages.

“Nurse Chloe, please don’t hit on me while you dress me.” Max swatted Chloe’s hand. “It's creepy.”

“Sure is,” Chloe said with an exaggerated wink. “Get your scrawny ass in gear.”

The drive was about twenty minutes, mostly occupied by a game of Guess the Crime. The girls took turns looking at pedestrians and other drivers and guessing what crimes they may have committed. William had started this game when they were kids, and they'd always loved his elaborate tales of intrigue about people they didn't know. Now, they both danced around a minefield of trauma that separated and linked their lives. Surprisingly, it was still fun, and when Chloe threw the car in park Max was almost disappointed. 

Physical therapy was grueling, as usual. This was only Max’s third session outside the hospital, but she had somehow thought this pain would magically go away. Dr. Lombardi always started her off with a low-impact warm up before she stretched. Surprisingly, the stretch was worse. Her muscles wanted to stay tight, especially around that barely-closed wound. Even worse were the strengthening exercises.

“Wowsers,” she panted, cheeks flushed and shining with sweat, “you know this is more exercise than I ever did before the accident, right?”

“I'm sure it is Max. Recovery is harder than maintenance.” Dr. Lombardi smiled sympathetically at her.

Max thought back to her first two years in Seattle. She thinks of crying herself to sleep and kicking the covers off at two am, too hot from anger at herself. She thinks of not eating, because everything tastes like the heel of a loaf of bread, then getting so hungry that she eats everything at her fingertips and then some. She thinks of making no friends, avoiding eye contact in the hallways at school and sweating in the palms every time a pretty girl smiles in her direction. And she thinks of arguing with her mom, her dad, her therapist, herself. Recovery is harder than maintenance.  “I guess,” she said, slowly. She stumbled, and her knees nearly gave out.  “But I still don't want you turning me into a gym rat!” The doctor laughed and guided her through the exercise one more time.

When her exercises were done, and Dr. Lombardi had lectured her on the importance of being careful and not babying her hip and doing her damn exercises every day, seriously, Chloe was slumped in a waiting-room chair, napping and waiting for her. Max shook her gently.

“You really didn’t have to wait around here, you know. The library’s down the block, and so’s that awful taco place you like.”

Chloe’s eyes opened slowly. “I’m sort of banned from the Arcadia Bay Library, long story. I didn’t even think of tacos though. Wanna go get tacos with me, nerd?”

Max shook her head and laughed. “Not really, no. But I am starving. Any way we could go somewhere that isn't disgusting?” 

“Well, Max, this is Arcadia Bay, not some fancy metropolis like Seattle. We have Tito’s, the Two Whales, Taco Bell, and Subway.”

“What about that burger place off Main Street?”

“That place shut down years ago. It was a drug front.” She wiggled her fingers dramatically. “Extra oregano was code for a side of weed, apparently.”

Max rolled her eyes. “The Two Whales it is, then. I'm not eating at Tito’s again until I have the muscles to handle vomiting.”

“But Taco Bell…” Chloe pouted, puppy dog eyes activating. 

“Are you cereal? Not happening.” Max refused to look at her, avoiding the magic of puppy dog eyes. “Besides, you can’t tell me you don’t want your mom’s cheeseburgers. That’s just bullshit.”

“Alright, alright pottymouth, we can go to the Two Whales. But you’re paying! My mom gives me shit for my tab every time I walk through the front door.”

Max had really hoped that they'd seen the back of Frank Bowers at Rachel’s funeral. She liked him enough, but remembering the last time Chloe learned about his relationship with Rachel made Max incredibly nervous. She wanted to avoid that revelation if she could. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on her side. As they were finding an empty booth, he snagged Chloe’s wrist.

“Hey there, Price” he said, voice more gravelly than usual.

“What do you want, Frank?” Chloe asked, time tight with forced calm.

“We need to talk.” He gave Max a pointed look, telling her as kindly as he knew how to buzz off and keep her nose out.

“If you need to talk to her, I can hear it.” Max leaned more heavily on her cane, planting herself in place.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Fuck. Whatever. Just sit down. I don't need you two bringing Joyce’s wrath down on me.” 

The girls slid into the booth uneasily. Max clutched Chloe’s hand under the table. “Ok Frank,” Chloe said tersely, “talk.”

Frank looked down at the table, fiddling with Rachel’s bracelet on his wrist. “I’m sorry about how I acted at the funeral. I was thinking with my heart and not with my brain.”

Chloe squeezed Max’s hand. “Me too, I guess.” Max squeezed bacI, biting her lip.

“Listen Chloe. Rachel wouldn’t want me to hold a debt over your head anymore. She hated the way we always fought, said it kept her from telling us both a lot of things.” He looked at her oddly. “I think those secrets might be what took her away. I don’t want that anymore.”

“What are you saying?” Chloe asked suspiciously.

“I'm saying you’re debt-free. As of today. I don't want your money. You don't owe me anything anymore.” He opened his hands in what Max recognized as a gesture of peace. “We’re square.”

“Are we?” Chloe asked tightly, rage boiling just under her skin. “Because I don’t think we are. Whose drugs were in her system when she died Frank? Whose drugs were in mine when Nathan Prescott dropped them in my drink and dragged me home to take sick pictures of me? Amd what about that Kate Marsh girl? Whose fuckin drugs were those, Frank? Who-”

“Chloe!” Max cut her off, gripping her shoulder. “Stop, look at him! Do you think he doesn't know that?” She gestured at Frank, whose eyes were red and brimming with tears. Chloe still looked mutinous. “He loved her, just as much as you. How long were you two dating, Frank?”

He didn't answer that, just looked pleadingly at Chloe and whispered, “If I had known...I would never hurt her, or you. Never.”

“He has to live with that forever,” Max said softly. “That's punishment enough.” 

“Dating?” Chloe asked hoarsely, voice cracking. “Like, a couple?”

“Too many secrets,” he answered, face in hands. “I wish we could go back…”

Max looked over at Chloe, just in time to watch her heart crack open all over again. “But she and I…she told me she met someone but I thought...” 

“I know,” Max said, softly, soothingly. “I'm sure she never wanted to hurt you.” She glanced over at Frank. “I'm going to take her home.” 

“No, stay,” he said, standing to leave. He set a wad of cash on the table. “Make sure she eats.”

Once again, Max was overwhelmed at the surprising heart of gold within Frank Bowers. “You're a good man, Frank,” she said, covering the money with one hand and slipping it into her pocket before Chloe could see.

Chloe stared at her lap for a while, eyes wet. “This is bullshit,” she finally whispered. 

“I know,” Max said softly.

“Yeah...about that.” Chloe looked at her accusingly. “How do you know?”

Max felt herself break out in a cliched sweat. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“You knew they were dating. You knew back at the funeral. You're always at the right place at the right time, and you know too much.” Chloe rubbed her eyes. “Or I'm hella paranoid. Who fuckin knows?” 

“You’re not paranoid,” Max said, too quietly. “I know too much.”

“Yeah! You do!” Chloe frowned at her, the realization truly dawning on her. “How do you know this shit? You were gone what, five years? You didn't keep in touch with _me_. Who's feeding you all this information?”

“You're not going to believe me,” Max said, her voice tiny. She was lightheaded, heart thudding in her chest, unimaginably loud. This was what she'd been dreading since the hospital. Eventually, she was bound to slip up. She knew this moment was inevitable, but she'd hoped to build up Chloe's faith in her a bit more before they discussed things.

“Of course I'll believe you!” Chloe looked so serious, so trusting, so absolutely certain of Max that she couldn't even bring herself to argue.

So Max told Chloe everything. 

She told her about the vision in class, the gunshot in the bathroom, the sudden revision of time. She told her about testing that ability, about saving the strange girl in the bathroom, then heading to the parking lot only to be rescued in return by nearly unrecognizable Chloe Price. Chloe stared at her, eyes wide and mouth ajar. The story kept flowing, from the truck ride to Kate Marsh to the Vortex club...and as she went on, Max felt more like she was puking than talking, each revelation coming straight from her gut and spilling miserably to fill the space between them. Everything came out, from the moment they reunited to the moment Max departed to start the week again. There were details she meant to keep to herself, like why she went back in time at the end, but there was no stopping the tidal wave. It was just so satisfying to be able to talk about it to someone, to not keep it all locked up inside anymore. When she was done, there was a long, hollow silence.

“Max…” Chloe said slowly, breaking that awful quiet. “You don’t have to make shit up to keep me from being mad at you. I'm not mad. I just want to understand.” Chloe sounded exhausted, like a disappointed parent whose child had been naughty.

“Are you cereal? I'm not making this up, Chloe!” Max gritted her teeth in frustration. She knew her story was unbelievable, but she's hoped there were enough impossible things in it to stump Chloe for even a moment. “How would I know about Frank and Rachel, huh? How did I scream _before_ I saw Nathan’s gun? You heard me talking to him, telling him I knew he ‘never meant to hurt her.’ I obviously didn't mean you, he clearly wanted to hurt you. But I know he didn't mean to kill Rachel! Just like I know you have her red flannel hanging in your closet, furthest to the left. And I know exactly how much money you owe Frank. I know the exact spot Rachel was buried. I know you have parking tickets in your pockets. I know so many things I'm not supposed to! Can you come up with a better explanation? How do you think I know this stuff?” 

“Fuck if I know! But time travel? Really Max? That's insane!” Chloe threw up her hands in frustration. "Listen, Donnie Dorko, I'm all about sci-fi. But that isn't even realistic, don't bullshit me like this."

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me, this is too much for you. You've been through enough today.”

"Oh, is that it? I'm just a fragile little flower, it's not that you're talking crazy."

Joyce chose that moment to swing by their table. “What do you girls want to eat?” she asked, clearly trying to ignore their angry faces and terse voices. 

“Waffles would be amazing, Joyce,” Max said. Chloe nodded, but didn't say anything.

“Two orders of waffles, coming up!” She looked at them both searchingly, the way only a mother can. “Extra whipped cream, too. Be nice, girls.”

As Joyce walked away, Max struggled to get up and move, sitting across from Chloe where Frank had been before, then leaning forward so they could look eye to eye.

"Nothing I say is going to change your mind. If I could still rewind, I'd do the thing with your pockets like I did before.”

"Ok...run this by me again," Chloe said. "You got super powers... saved my life... and then went back in time to un-save me?"

"You know it's not like that. You asked me to!"

"That's the most unrealistic part of this story, you know. Me giving up anything for this fucking town," Chloe said.

“I didn't want to tell you any of this," Max answered sullenly. "I knew it wasn't time."

“That doesn't make me feel better. Frank is an was, but he’s right about one thing: secrets are dangerous.”  Chloe looked lost. “So let's say I believe you. Hypothetically or whatever. What now?”

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

“I mean what changes?”

Max shrugged. “Nothing. I mean, we still testify against Jefferson and Nathan. We still try to fix our fucked-up friendship. We eat some waffles. I give you reasons to trust me.”

“Ok sure,” Chloe pressed, “but what about you? You saw horrible things - hypothetically, of course. Are you just going to let all that nasty stuff sit in your head?” 

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” 

“Of course you do! You've got a physical therapist for your fucked hip. You need a mental therapist for your fucked up brain.” 

“Thanks…” Max said dryly. Joyce brought their waffles, heaping with whipped cream. “How about I just eat my feelings like everyone else does?” 

“I'm serious Max. There's no shame in seeing a doctor when something hurts.” Chloe looked faraway. 

“I know. I just need to sort out some things. A lot of that stuff can't come out, even to a doctor. I can't exactly tell my therapist that I'm a time-traveler. I'll get institutionalized.” Max took another bite, then paused. “Does this mean you believe me?” she asked through half-chewed breakfast food.

“It means I can't not believe you. I can't think of any way around it. I'm not fuckin happy about it though. Now swallow your food, you're fucking gross.” Chloe perched a little whipped cream on the tip of her fork and hit the handle, flinging the stuff so it splattered right on Max’s face. “That's better.”

Max sputtered with surprise for a second before snatching the cherry from her plate and whipped it across the table. It bounced off Chloe's shoulder, and she picked it up and ate it. "You're terrible at this," she teased. "For someone with infinite knowledge of the future, you're seriously lacking in strategy." She wadded up her napkin and through it at Max. "Wipe your face. I wanna go home, smoke off this tension, and listen to some tunes." Max wiped the whipped cream from her chin and stood with some difficulty to follow Chloe out of the diner. Once Chloe had boosted her in and they were both seated in the cab of the truck, Max gathered up the courage to ask a question.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, fiddling with her seatbelt to avoid eye contact.

"Definitely," Chloe said, sounding calm. Max looked up at her in shock. "You were all set to lie to me forever. Either that or you just told me a huge, impossible lie now. But I'll deal with it. Like you said, you get to give me reasons to trust you. Maybe tomorrow after you play school with nerd-boy and the nun, you can show me where they buried Rachel." 

Max nodded. "Sure. There's some other stuff around there that might interest you. Do me a favor though?" 

"Shoot."

Max winced at how on-the-nose that was. "Put David's gun back. You don't need it anymore, Frank isn't coming after you and neither is Nathan. And the last first time we went to the junkyard, you shot yourself more times than I can count."

Chloe gaped at her for a second. "Um. Sure, yeah. I'll do that when we get back to the house." She turned the key and the truck roared to life. "Fuck, that's never going to stop freaking me out. My best friend, the superhero."

"Retired superhero," Max corrected, but she smiled. Things weren't what she'd planned, but they'd still turned out better than she expected. Maybe that was ok. And maybe Chloe was right, she thought as she watched the trees flash by the truck's filthy windows. Being honest, getting help...they sounded like foreign concepts right now. But if she played her cards right, maybe things could turn out better than Max could ever have planned for.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little mini-update to get us ready for our Halloween chapter! Let me know in the comments what you think Chloe and Max will dress up as for Halloween!

“u there hippie?"

Max rolled over, yawning hard. She'd been napping for the past few hours.  Yesterday was a long emotional roller coaster and she'd tossed and turned all night. That morning's PT had gone poorly, with a few falls and some swearing, as had her early afternoon lesson with Warren. He'd gone on and on about "real numbers," and Max had gotten so annoyed that she'd told him that numbers were a social construct meant to control the masses, and that time was fake so none of it mattered anyway. "You sound like Chloe," he said, sounding a little annoyed. Max couldn't help but feel a little flattered. Nevertheless, when Warren left, looking just as discouraged as Max felt, she'd crawled into Chloe's bed and closed her eyes, brain throbbing. It wasn't long before she passed out.

"I'm here,” she typed sleepily. Where are you?"

It took Chloe a moment to respond. "im out getting tb. Tried 2 call but u didnt answer. u want anything?"

"Tuberculosis?" Max asked, snorting.

"fuck off. u want a burrito or nah?" This response was much quicker.

"Sure. Extra sour cream?"

"just 4 u"

"Thanks! :):):):)"

"NO EMOJI!"

It wasn't too long after that when the rumbling sounds of Chloe's ancient truck could be heard in the driveway. When the truck door slammed, Max sat up and rubbed her eyes, finally committing to being awake for a while. Chloe would start classes tomorrow, Monday, and Max was reluctant to admit that being away from her was a scary thought. They hadn’t spent more than three hours apart since The Incident, as Chloe called it. Max felt clingy, but she wanted to soak up as much time together as possible before tomorrow. 

There was a clattering sound as Chloe bounded up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door open. 

"Want to watch a Halloween movie with me?" she asked, out of breath from speeding up the steps.

"I'm not so big on scary movies, Chloe,” Max replied uncertainly. “Especially since my life narrowly missed being one."

"I wasn't thinking scary, you wimp. I was thinking more like..." she pulled a DVD from behind her back. "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!"

Max grinned. “Are you cereal? We haven’t watched that together in years! Do you remember how scared you were of the Great Pumpkin?” she teased.

Chloe stuttered. “A-an ominous giant pumpkin rising from the pumpkin patch in the dead of night on Halloween is fuckin’ scary, Max!” Her cheeks flushed. “Shut up!”

“You’re not still scared, are you?” Max asked, still teasing.

Chloe snorted. “Yes, Max, I’m tooootally scared of a giant pumpkin that goes bump in the night. Do you wanna watch the movie or no?”

Max laughed. “Totally. Toss me my burrito?”

Chloe handed her the bag. “I got you a few. And I ain’t tossing you shit, you can’t catch.” She popped the DVD into the slot and turned the TV on. “Don’t get that white shit all over my bed.”

“There are a lot of jokes I could make here…” Max began, slowly.

“Ew. Fuckin’ don’t.” Chloe sat at the head of the bed, kicked off her boots and leaned back at the head of the bed. She unwrapped her Cheesy Gordita Crunch and took a big bite. “Come warm me up,” she said with her mouth full, patting a spot on her lap for Max to lean on.

Max scooched up the bed and let her head rest in Chloe’s lap. “Don’t you drop crumbs on me!” she warned. Chloe laughed and smudged cheese on Max’s nose. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t!” Chloe answered cheerfully. “Now shut up and eat.”

They sat in near silence, watching as Charlie Brown was abused by his “friends” and Linus made a fool of himself. Max had never really liked that part. Every time the gang looked in their bags to compare candy, when Charlie Brown said “I got a rock…” Max felt her frown deepening. 

Chloe seemed to read her mind. “Why are kids such dicks?” she asked, annoyed. Max shrugged and shook her head. When their food was gone, the wrappers were crumpled and tossed to the floor. “You’d better not leave that shit up here,” Chloe told her.

“Yeah, whatever,” Max said sleepily. Her long nap had backfired, and now she was exhuasted all over again. When the movie ended, Chloe wordlessly grabbed the remote and switched on Monster House on demand.

“I hate the animation in this movie,” Max murmured.

“Yeah? How come?”

“The scenery is beautiful, and the backgrounds are gorgeous. Look at that leaf!” She motioned angrily at the screen. “But the people are so weird! Their hair looks like plastic! They look like Betty Spaghetti!” 

Chloe snorted. “Yeah, kind of. But don’t remind me of Betty Spaghetti. Those things were demented. And you used to take them apart and leave their bits all over the floor...now that’s creepy.”

“Happy Halloween!” Max teased. “Bits of misshapen girls all over the floor, with plastic hair and painted-on swimsuits…”

“I seriously hate you.” 

“No you don’t,” Max answered, mimicking Chloe. “Do you have any plans?”

Chloe looked at her with concern. “What are you talking about?”

“For Halloween! Do you have any Halloween plans?”

“I was gonna do what I always do. Put on some horrifying SFX makeup and lurk in the cemetery to scare kids.

“You’re such a jerk!” Max laughed.

“Care to join?” Chloe asked.

“Sure, if you’ll tag along with me to a party at Blackwell for a bit beforehand. Dana has been begging me, she says I skipped out on too many before.

“That sounds fucking terrible,” Chloe said.

“Exactly. So you have to come with me. Make it tolerable for me.”

“Dude, I love you, but there is no. Way.”

“Pleaaaaase?” Max begged. “I’m injured!”

“You know that shit doesn’t work on me. What’s in it for me?” Chloe asked skeptically. 

“The pleasure of my company?” Max wheedled.

“I get that daily. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You’re horrible, seriously.”

“No I’m not. You got a costume?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, but it’s a surprise,” Max said. “Do you have one?”

“You know me, I like to improvise.”

“Chloe, Halloween is Friday. Now is the time to improvise.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“So will you coooooome?” Max asked, drawing out the o. “Or should I invite Warren?”

“No need to break out the geek-vitation, I’ll come with you.” Chloe flicked Max in the ear. “Unless you’re looking to couples cosplay Kirk and Spock with Warren the Weird.”

“Be nice!” Max chided. “But no, I don’t really want to do that.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be your knight in shining armor. Or…” She smiled sheepishly. “Rusted armor. Anyway, it’s totally my turn to save your ass for a change.”

“I think I’d be happier,” Max said softly, “if we didn’t have to do any more saving for a while.”

Chloe nodded in agreement. She shifted so her head was on the pillow, and Max rolled so they were laying side by side. Usually, she slept downstairs on the pullout couch to avoid any extra strain or pressure on her hip. The other reason, of course, was her discomfort sleeping too close to Chloe. They'd kissed twice in the previous timeline, and Max was still mixed up in the head about it. She wasn't sure how that Chloe felt about her, and she was even less sure about how this one felt. But now, still drowsy from over-sleeping earlier, Max closed her eyes and curled closer to Chloe. She was too tired to think about confusing feelings or timeline shenanigans. She just wanted to enjoy a night's rest with her closest friend.


	9. Chapter 9

Monday was a long, boring day that stretched endlessly like a piece of bubble gum. Chloe left before Max woke up and sent her a good morning text right before her first class started. For the first time since she left the hospital, Max woke up on her own. Joyce was cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

“Good morning Max. Bacon’s on the table, come sit. I’ll have eggs out in a second.”

“Need any help?” Max asked sleepily, pouring herself a mug of coffee and sitting down.

“Nope, I got it. But you’ll have to eat fast, you really overslept. We need to get on the road.” Joyce set a plate on the table and gently ruffled Max’s hair.

Max scraped an egg onto a piece of toast and topped it off with some bacon and another slice of bread. “I can eat this on the road. Let me just get some shoes and my jacket.” She shrugged into her heavy coat and struggled to lace up her sneakers. 

“You’re really gonna go in what you slept in?” Joyce tsked. “Chloe is a terrible influence on you.”

Max shrugged. “I think if anyone gets to be lazy, it’s me.” She followed Joyce out to the car and waited for her to unlock it before hopping in.

 

Joyce was oddly quiet in the car. The radio thrummed quietly, ambient sound more than true music. When they pulled into the lot, she took a deep breath. Max knew immediately that something was wrong, and she braced herself. 

“Maxine, is there something going on between you and my daughter?”

Max froze. “That’s um. That’s a loaded question, Joyce. What sort of thing?”

“You know what sort of thing. Are you and Chloe...fooling around? Dating?” 

Max choked on the last bite of her bacon sandwich. After a few coughs, she managed to force out the word, “No!”

Joyce patted her back. “I wouldn’t mind, you know. You’ve always been a damn good influence on her.”

“She’s better for me than I could ever be for her. But no, we’re really not.” Max felt her face crumbling. How could this silly misunderstanding have her this close to tears? Max wasn’t a crier.

“Sweetheart, don’t let it get to you. She’ll come around.” Max opened her mouth to protest, but Joyce shushed her. “Don’t say no yet. Tell me when you’re sure.”

Max shrugged, then nodded helplessly. “Sure Joyce.”

“Chloe’s gonna pick you up after class. I’ll see you girls later tonight when my shift is over.” Surprisingly, she leaned over and gave Max a motherly peck on the cheek. “Get on out of here.” Max complied immediately, hurrying inside to avoid being late for her appointment.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Max was finished, she noticed that Chloe wasn’t waiting in the lobby for her today. She peered out the windows and saw the truck running in the parking lot, double parked and halfway into a handicapped space. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Some things never change.

“You feeling up to an adventure?” Chloe asked through a mouthful of french fries, leaning out the window of the truck. Max didn’t answer immediately. She climbed up into the cab of the truck and slumped down in her seat. “How much energy is this adventure going to take? I’m beat…”

Chloe looked concerned. “We can go home if you want. You just said you would show me where they...you know…”

“Oh...Rachel. Yeah, we can do that. Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind today.”

“Like what? Halloween?” Chloe flashed a surprising grin.

“I’m actually really worried about Halloween.” Max pinched the bridge of her nose. “I haven’t been to a party in a while.”

Chloe shrugged. “Me neither, but I’m not all that worried. Who cares what all those Vortex losers have to say?”

“It’s not that.” Max hesitated a moment. “It’s just that the last time...it was a bad one. You ran off looking for Nathan. I wandered around in the dark by myself looking for you.”

Chloe grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t really have anything to be sorry for. That wasn’t you. Or, it wasn’t you-you. Now you. It was then you now. Or something.”

“I...have no idea what you’re talking about. But I know if Nathan wasn’t safely away from me, I’d be trying to find him right now, just like then-me did. So I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. I kind of feel sorry for him though. His parents didn’t support him, and he’s never had anyone to really love and care for him. It must have been really easy for Jefferson to manipulate him.”

“I don’t know Max. Nathan’s always been a little weird and creepy. When I was still at school, I got a look at his portfolio. His art was...disturbing. The upperclassmen on the swim team couldn’t stand him. I stopped him from getting beat up once.”

“Really? Mr. ‘I Own This Town’ got picked on? That makes me feel even worse. He needs help, not abuse.”

“He needed help. It’s too late for that now. Now he needs to stay away from me. Or else.” Chloe dragged a finger across her throat dramatically. 

Max struggled not to roll her eyes as the truck pulled into the junkyard. Chloe threw it in park and climbed out, clearly intent on helping Max. Max surprised her by getting out all by herself. “I’m doing a lot better,” she said by way of explanation. “Follow me, it’s this way.”

They rounded the bend, past piles of junk and twisted up car parts. Max knew she didn’t have to tell Chloe where they’d found Rachel. There was crime scene tape surrounding the hole, ripped in several places, tatters blowing in the wind. Chloe moved like a sleepwalker, retracing steps she did not know she’d made previously, a timeline ago. She ducked under the tape and dropped to her knees next to the hole. There was nothing there this time, just freshly turned earth and a lingering smell of decay. Max shivered as she watched Chloe run her fingers through the dirt absently.

“She’s not here,” Chloe said, voice thick with suppressed tears.

“I know,” Max said softly. “They already took her to the cemetery, you know that.”

“No...I don’t feel her here.” Chloe looked up at Max imploringly. “I always felt her here, even while she was missing. I don’t now. She’s gone.”

Max knelt beside Chloe with some difficulty, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve helped her find peace, Chloe. She doesn’t need to be here anymore. They found her, they people who did this are being punished. She moved on.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“I don’t either. I just know that I felt her before, too. But when you said your goodbyes, she was gone. You set her free.”

Chloe stared back down at the gaping wound in the earth. She didn’t look up again for a long time, but when she did it was clear that she was finished crying. “I’m ready to go.” She stood up, then reached a hand out to Max to help her up. “Thanks for doing this for me. It must have been hard to come back here.”

Max nodded. “You’re welcome. Believe it or not, there are good memories here too.” She looked out across the cluttered landscape. “But I’d rather be out making new memories than getting stuck on these.” She took Chloe’s hand, and they headed to the truck.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The week dragged on as Max prepared for her return to school. Warren and Kate came over every day, drilling her on the new topics and making sure she was ready to return. By Thursday, she was ready to call it quits.

“Please Kate? Can’t we do something else today?” she pleaded. “Halloween is tomorrow and I still don’t have a costume. Come with me to Goodwill. I’ll get you something nice.”

Kate wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know… My mom says Halloween is for devil-worshipers and heathens.”

Max laughed. “Ok, but your mom isn’t here. And I’m definitely not either of those things. Wait til you see my dorm at Christmas!”

Kate looked nervous, but she eventually agreed. They walked into town, enjoying the warm fall sunshine and crisp air. At Goodwill, Max dug through bins of men’s clothing and scoured the meager costume rack until she found each piece she’d been looking for. On a rack beside the dressing room, Max found a long, tattered black dress. “Kate, you have to try it on!”

“It’s disgusting!” Kate laughed.

“It is!” Max agreed. “And the price tag says it’s only a dollar fifty. I’m buying it whether you try it on or not.”

Kate sighed and slipped the dress over her head. “I feel silly.”

The ragged hem of the dress trailed along the floor, and the scooping neckline showed off her buttondown underneath. She did look kind of silly, but there was potential. Max grabbed a pointy hat and plopped it on her head. “You look awesome! We have to buy this.”

“I don’t know…” Kate was biting her lip.

“Even if you don’t wear it, I’m still going to buy it for you.” Max took the dress and added it to her pile. “I’d rather you have it just in case than realize later that you want it when it’s too late.”

At the checkout counter, Max asked for two bags and Kate took her own less hesitantly than before. They walked back through town toward Chloe’s house. Max moved more slowly than before, her hip aching dully. She did her best to keep from limping

“Do you need a break?” Kate asked with concern.

“I’m ok. The tea shoppe is another block down, we can get some warm drinks and I’ll get some rest.” She dragged her feet the rest of the way to the small shop, then sat at a table near the door. Kate ordered them steaming cups of yerba mate and carried them over carefully.

“You need to be more careful,” she said sternly, setting a mug in front of Max, who drank gratefully.

“I know, I know,” Max answered impatiently. “It’s just frustrating! I hate not being able to do everything I could before. I haven’t felt this helpless in a really long time.” She remembered laying in her bed in Seattle, unable to move or breathe or think without pain. Even then, she’d never had to ask people slow down for her. She’d never realized how precious her independence was before. 

“You’ll get there,” Kate said soothingly. “But don’t push yourself too hard. You’ll only delay getting better acting like that.”

The front door swung open with a jingle of bells, and a familiar blue head popped in. “Max? Oh, hey Kate! I’ve been looking for you. Do you guys want a ride home?”

Max nodded gratefully. “I think I pushed myself a little hard today. My hip is killing me.”

Chloe looked annoyed. “Why didn’t you call? I’ve been out of class for at least an hour, you definitely could have asked for a ride.”

“I know.”

“Seriously. Call me next time.” She gave Max a look that reminded her painfully of her father. “I’ll come get you.” Max nodded. Chloe reached over and swiped her mug to get a sip. “It’s getting really cold out there guys. I’m tired of winter and it hasn’t even started yet.”

“Really?” Max asked. “I kind of like it.”

“You would,” Chloe snorted. “Hipsters looooove fall. Sweaters and flannel and pumpkin spice lattes. Disgusting.”

“Like I could get a pumpkin spice latte out here in the boonies anyway. Where is the closest Starbucks?”

“Who cares?” Chloe shrugged. “It all tastes burnt anyway.”

“You’ve obviously just never had the right coffee.”

“I have had the right coffee. I make it at home, in a coffee pot. And unlike Starbucks, I don’t burn it.” She grimaced. “I’ll make you girls some. You’ll see.”

“None for me thanks.” Kate looked revolted. “Coffee is disgusting.”

“You’ll see,” Chloe said. “I make the best coffee ever.”

Max laughed. “I guess that would come from having a mom who works at the best diner in America.”

Chloe stuck out her tongue. “Rude! I’m completely self-taught!”

“Right. Whatever. You ready to go? Your mom is bringing home meatloaf tonight.”

“Score! Let’s go!” Chloe was already halfway out the door before Max got up.


End file.
